Chapter 26 – Leo
TWENTY-SIX
LEO
After the rainstorm, I don’t spend a single night without Willa in my bed.
While we haven’t had a formal moving-in conversation, I think we both can feel the clock ticking before our private little bubble pops, and neither of us wants to waste any more time than we already have.
In September, things will change when she starts her next marketing cycle, and during that time, we’ll have to keep things under wraps for both my job and her career.
Until then, I want her as close as possible.
When I think of the future, my gut clenches at the conversations we’re going to have to have, the fact that I’m going to have to watch her pretend to be in love with another man and stand back as she does, but that’s a hurdle I’ll have to tackle later.
At the end of the day, I would never do anything to stop Willa from having what she wants, and I’ll do everything in my power to give it to her.
If she wants another number one album and the kind of media storm that captures the entire world’s interest, then I’ll make sure she has it.
In the past two weeks, during quiet moments in bed, on the back patio, or on her porch swing, we’ve had many conversations, and she’s mentioned here and there that the few relationships she’s attempted outside of her fake ones have crashed and burned because the man didn’t understand her need for success, her need to follow her dreams. After a while, she stopped trying and just gave herself to the fake relationship, deciding that her career was the more important aspect of her life and that the disappointment from others wasn’t worth the headache.
I refuse to fall into that category for her.
Our days grow routine, waking slowly and, more often than not, making love in the early-morning light.
After Willa does some kind of workout, sometimes a video of Pilates, where I have to leave or else get too tempted to interrupt, and sometimes we go for a hike around the property.
We have breakfast together, and she writes while I work before we start on the house for the better part of the day.
Most nights, we have dinner at home before Willa gets some more writing in, and we spend the evening out on the back patio.
Some nights, we end up working later than others and fall into bed exhausted, but we always end the night with me inside of her. After one of those long days, when we spend the day in the pounding sun finishing up the front walkway, I’m too exhausted to cook.
“Fast food, fucking you hard, then sleeping with you in my bed,” I grumble as we step into the house. In this moment, I’ve never been more grateful that the air conditioning works, because the sharp hit of it is a relief against my heated skin.
“My dream day,” Willa grumbles, and I look over at her with a smile. “But I need a shower too.” I lift my eyebrows in suggestion, and she glowers at me, making me smirk. “You can join, but I’m not fucking you until I’m clean, rested, and fed.”
“Okay, then, a quick dinner it is. Junk food,” I say. “What’s your favorite fast food? We’ll grab that.” There’s a moment of hesitation before she responds.
“I… I don’t know.”
Turning fully towards her, I attempt to read her face, confused.
“What?”
“I don’t know my favorite fast food.” Her eyes drop to pick at her nails, the red polish replaced by a pretty yellow that Nat picked out during girls’ night last week at Wren’s house, while I went to Jesse’s place for poker night.
“You don’t…”
“I’ve never really had fast food.” I blink at her for a moment before a blush reddens her cheeks. “I just…you know. I’ve always had things that fit into my nutrition plan. Chicken nuggets and French fries weren’t really in that typically. And if they were, they weren’t fast food.”
Understanding hits, and with her discomfort, a newly familiar feeling moves through me: the excitement of knowing I’m going to get to give Willa another first.
“Okay,” I say, moving to grab my wallet and the keys to Willa’s SUV, an idea brewing quick. “Let’s go. We’ll figure out what you like.” She moves, following me out the door. I open the passenger side door, letting her slide in before jogging around the driver’s side and driving off.
I drive to the main highway on the outskirts of Holly Ridge, where, along a half-mile stretch, there are four different fast-food joints. “Fries?” I ask at the first stop, and she gives me a soft smile.
“I do know I love French fries.”
“Onion rings?” I ask as the car before us moves ahead, and she shrugs.
“Never had them.” I grin then, excited to once again give her something basic that I’ve taken for granted. I order an array, get it from the window, and then move back onto the highway for only a moment before turning into the parking lot of the next fast-food restaurant.
“Leo—”
“We’ve gotta figure out what you like,” I say. “Ever had popcorn chicken?” I ask, pulling up to the speaker, then ordering another feast.
“Leo,” she murmurs once we pull out, and she realizes I’m repeating the same process. “Leo, this is nuts.”
I stop behind the car ordering, and turn to her to see that soft look on her face, the one she gives me when she’s excited and thrilled by something basic, but feels like she should protest because she feels a bit silly.
“Yeah, but who’s gonna stop us?” I ask. She grins.
After we have our huge fast-food feast, I drive a minute or two to a county park I’ve noticed in passing, then drive another minute before we find a lookout, like some kind of kismet.
I back her SUV into it, then moved quickly to open the trunk and lay the rear seats flat before we carried the food to the back and climbed in.
Willa has the widest smile on her face as I open bags, ripping the paper and laying them out like some five-course meal.
“I think this is my new favorite food,” she says, stealing another fry from one of the bags twenty minutes later, and I laugh.
“Sorry, it’s not fancier, but that would kind of defeat the purpose. You gotta eat fast food like this quick. It’s not as good cold.” She shrugs as if it doesn’t faze her at all, reaching for the chicken nuggets she deemed to be her favorite, and sliding them through barbecue sauce.
“This is the best meal I’ve ever had,” she says, and the grin on her face tells me she means it.
“I’m glad I could give you another first.” I look at the bags around us. “Or ten.” She laughs, then, head tipping back, happy and free in a way I’ve only ever seen on her here in Holly Ridge.
My phone chooses that moment to ping with a new email, and at the same time, Willa’s does.
Neither of us reaches for our devices immediately; instead, we look to one another, somehow knowing.
The only reason we’d both have a message at the same time would be if it were about her and the timeline.
She puts a hand out, grabbing my hand and twining our fingers before grabbing her phone and tapping a bit.
“August 20,” she says, her voice low, looking at the screen, and my stomach drops. “The relationship starts August 20.”
Her head lifts, eyes locking on mine before she gives me a soft, sad smile.
I see it there, clear as day: the internal battle of wanting to extend this further, but also excited to record her next album, to get the ball rolling towards being able to share it with the world, with her fans.
I’ve heard a few of the songs, and each one is the best thing I’ve heard her create.
With each one, she tells me about how she thinks her fans will love it, which one will be their new favorite, and ideas for music videos.
She loves that life, or at least parts of it.
And once again, I know I will make it all happen for her, so Willa Stone gets the career and the life we’re building in Holly Ridge.
“It just means I have four weeks.” I lift her hand and scoot closer, pressing my lips to her fingers, and watching her shield go up for a moment before I clarify. “I have four weeks to make magic for you, to make sure we both have all the memories we need to tide us over.”
“Leo—” she starts, and I know where this conversation is going, too, because we haven’t fully ignored the future since we’ve gotten together.
There have been a few moments when she’s caved to her worry, tried to convince me she can’t expect me to just sit around while she off dating someone else (her words, not mine) and each time I’ve done what I can to reassure her that I’ve already been sitting around and waiting for years now—but those years, I didn’t know she was mine.
That I can handle another six months, another year of that, if it means I know that at the end of it all, I get to have her, free and clear.
“We’re going to live the next month like nothing is going to change because other than the location and the inability to be open, nothing will change, Willa. We’re going to do our jobs. And we are going to be together.”
‘Yeah, but we can’t—“
“Not being able to touch and kiss you anytime I want is going to cut deep. I won’t pretend it will be sunshine and roses.
But we’ll make it through just fine. We’ll have the occasional weekend in Holly Ridge, and we’ll see each other often, even if we’ll be guarded.
And there are phones. And here are video calls,” I say, a smile moving on my lips as I shift her, pulling her into my lap.
“I might not be able to touch you every night, but we can do other things. We can be creative.”
“I like creative,” she whispers against my lips.
“I know that.” I kiss her, soft and sweet and reassuring, I hope, and after a moment, when she pulls back and rests her forehead against mine, I know I did my job.
“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”
‘We’re going to be okay, Willa. I’m going to make sure of it.”